Promises, Promises
by thoughtless dreamer
Summary: Haru's been Makoto's biggest confident for longer than he can actually remember, and vice versa. He holds complete trust in him, and he would never question his best friend's, his boyfriend's, loyalty. So why it's so hard for him to handle Haru spending the weekend with Rin, he has no idea. Well. Actually. No. That's not true. Haru/Makoto. Rated for smut, and not much else.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Free! Itowabi Swim Club_. If I did. Well. Let's just stop there.

**A/N**: This is my first attempts at writing for the _Free!_ fandom, because I just had too many feels, and not enough time nor people to talk to about it. So. I tried. Because this is what happens when the feels demand freedom. Hah. I made a pun. Free-dom. That should be the name of the _Free!_ fandom. Yeah. I'm going to stop now. /shot

**Dedicated** to **samurai . flo** because she is kind of a big deal, and the best husband-wife ever and lovingly prompted me in my time of need, inspiring this eighteen page monster fic of feels. I LOVE YOUR FACE AND BRAIN.

Warnings: **Yaoi**, boylove, boysmex, possibly too many feelings, I don't know.

••∞• Promises, Promises •∞••

It isn't that Makoto doesn't trust Haru.

It could never_, __ever_ come to that. Makoto and Haruka have held absolute confidence in one another since their very first pinky promise.

The one Haru made to Makoto when he wet the futon the night after the fisherman died. Makoto had slept over at Haru's that night, only to startle awake in the middle of the night—mortified, helpless and at a loss of what to do.

He'd tried not to cry—he really did—not wanting to wake Haru, but eventually his whimpers grew too loud, and Haru was up and out of bed and by his side in an instant. But before Makoto could explode into tears or even open his mouth to say anything, Haru very solemnly left the room-tottering back in a few minutes later with a large basin of water in hand, stopping before Makoto…

To calmly dump the water on the sheets and let the tub clatter noisily to the ground, promptly clambering into it and tugging a dumbfounded Makoto along with him.

Where he waited patiently for his parents to come rushing in at the commotion and silently sat through a stern chiding for his ridiculous antics, because _he should know better_, and it _wasn't appropriate to 'play pirates' at two in the morning._

As soon as the pair had been cleaned, changed, and tucked snugly together into Haru's bed – the futon given up a lost cause – Haru had stuck his pinky finger out to Makoto and explained matter of factly that best friends shouldn't ever keep anything that scared them a secret, and so long as Makoto promised never to do it again, he would always protect him from scary dreams so he didn't have to ever worry about anything embarrassing like that happening again.

Funnily enough, it never did.

No, Makoto has complete trust in Haruka, and he would never question his best friend's, _boyfriend's_, loyalty.

So why he's grown increasingly antsy with every passing day that Haru spends over at Rin's, he doesn't know.

But. That's not true.

Because he _does_. He's jealous, _sickeningly, achingly_ jealous, and he's ashamed and disgusted with himself for it, but he can't help it.

All he can think about is how a certain fire blazes in Haru's usually calm ocean eyes whenever he looks at Rin. One that's never been directed at him, and knows never will. And try as he might, Makoto can't quite squash down the jealousy that squirms unpleasantly in his stomach when he watches them, the kind that squeezes bitterly tight around his heart with every glance they exchange.

So while Makoto manages to wave Haru off with a soft smile when he departs for Rin's on Friday, a rare frown stays on his face for practically all of Saturday, only to be replaced with a look of agitation on Sunday, complete with a constant vigil of the clock.

His mood doesn't go unnoticed by the parents _nor_ the twins, and it's all he can do not to snap at Ran and Ren as they whine at him, knowing in their uncanny way _exactly_ what's bothering him, and demanding over and over again to stop sulking over Haru-nii-chan's play-date and _come and __**play**__,__ Onii-chan!_

Which he does, at long last, and he can't help but smile when he has Ren screeching with laughter as he and Ran tag team him with tickles, but they're sound asleep by eight, and Haru _still isn't_ due to be back until somewhere around nine thirty, ten.

He spends a good hour tidying his room, cleaning the kitchen, and he's about to start on the family room when his mother comes in and shoos him out of the house and over to Haru's exasperatedly, shaking her head and complaining good naturedly that she'll have nothing left to do _herself__,_ at the pace he's going.

"And bring this over while you're at it," she adds as she ushers him out the door, pushing a wrapped package into Makoto's hands, eyes smiling knowingly. "There was a sale at the fish market today, and I couldn't in good conscience leave without picking up some extra mackerel for Haru-chan."

Which is how Makoto finds himself taking the greatest pains he's ever made to whip up the best mackerel dinner he can manage for Haru to come home to.

"Tadaima."

Makoto feels his heart leap into his throat at the soft-spoken greeting _right in his ear_ and he yelps, nearly dropping the spatula as he spins around, coming nose to nose with Haru.

Whose sole attention is, predictably, on the mackerel in the pan.

"O-okaeri, Haru-chan," Makoto replies in greeting once he remembers how to breathe again, a hand on his chest as he laughs breathlessly, "You certainly scared me!"

Haru hums noncommittally, eyeing the mackerel critically.

"Don't let it burn," Haru mutters before disappearing as abruptly as he appeared, most likely to put his weekend bag things away.

Makoto knows that Haru won't remark on the treat for dinner any further, but he similarly knows his boyfriend deeply appreciates the gesture – both from the way his lips quirk up the faintest bit when the bright _sale!_ on the crumpled wrapping paper in the bin catches his eye, and the way fingers gently brush against his hip before he breezes off.

Makoto _lives_ for these small tokens of affection from Haru—he never tires of striving to put the tiny smiles that steal across Haru's face on his lips whenever he catches him unawares, and he certainly can't help the rush of pride he has whenever he's successful.

Haruka is by no means a physical person by nature—to most, he probably seems cool, or even stand-offish—yet he has never shied away from Makoto, ever, and it's something that Makoto revels in-particularly when it's Haru who initiates the touch.

It's something that he fervently hopes, sometimes guiltily, never changes. He wants to be the only one that Haru _wants_ to touch, to be touched i_by_, to see his relaxed smile, to get to see him with his guard down…

"It's done," Haru points out helpfully, appearing _out of thin air_ _for the_ _second time_ and Makoto _actually_ drops the spatula this time, much to Haru's chagrin if the noisy sigh through his nose is anything to go by.

Haru steers Makoto somewhat boldly out of the way, pushing him down to sit at the table before easily and efficiently taking over, serving them each hearty helpings of the fish and rice before settling down beside Makoto, immediately tucking into dinner with a hastily mumbled _itadakimasu_.

Makoto smiles into his meal the entire time, never once able to take his eyes off his boyfriend, delighting in the way he cleans his plate in a matter of minutes.

"You worked up quite an appetite, didn't you?" Makoto laughs as Haru stands up for more before he's even halfway done with his own serving. Haru makes a face at him.

"You'd be hungry too, if you swam all day," he huffs, sitting back down with a second portion even larger than before.

It feels like a cold stone drops into Makoto's stomach at his words, and suddenly he doesn't think he can even finish his first plate anymore.

"You went swimming with Rin," Makoto says more than asks – and why should he be surprised? It's not like he should have expected anything different; it's all the two ever talk about, it's what brought them all together in the first place.

The redundancy of Makoto's statement is enough for even blasé Haru to stare at him, incredulous.

"…Yeah, we swam everyday," Haru replies slowly.

"Uhuh," Makoto says distractedly, pushing a few grains of rice around his plate with his chopsticks until they sorta kinda resemble a dolphin. Because it's all he can do not to picture Haru in the water—when Haru's arguably at his most beautiful, in Makoto's opinion.

He was watching Haru swimming when it struck him that he was in love with him, after all.

And he's seen the looks on other people's faces enough times to know that _anyone_ lucky enough to see Haru swim can't help but fall a little in love with the sight.

With the way Haru's long, slender fingers cut gracefully, soundlessly through the water in perfect arcs, or the way the water seems to part around _Haru_ rather than the other way around, or—

Well. If Makoto could have his own, selfish way, he would be the _only_ one to see Haruka in the water.

And to think that Rin had that sight all to himself; when Makoto couldn't be there to watch him, to watch _them_, to make sure Rin didn't decide that Haru was as important to pursue as the Olympics, because…

Because. Well, what. What if. Haru realized that he didn't want-

"Makoto."

Makoto looks up with a jolt, and sees concern wrinkling Haru's brow.

"S-sorry, Haru-chan," Makoto laughs shortly, shaking his head as if he can also shake his clouding doubts away, knocking the side of his head lightly with a loose fist. "I totally zoned out there, didn't I? What were you saying?"

But Haru's lips are pursed in that firm line that makes Makoto's heart sink a little—if only because he knows that Haru has settled on something.

Only, he doesn't know what it is.

"There's something wrong," Haru declares at last after a good ten seconds of scrutinizing Makoto's face as he stares guilty back with bated breath.

The air rushes out of Makoto's lungs as he realizes Haru _can't actually __read his mind._

_Stupid, of _course _he can't,_ Makoto chastises himself disbelievingly, barely able to keep from rolling his eyes at his own paranoid notions.

Makoto waves his hand with a laugh, as though he can help dismiss the conversation faster that way. "There's nothing to worry about, Haru-chan," he insists earnestly. "You just made me realize that, we really ought to go swimming ourselves this week!" he says brightly, grinning from ear to ear as plans start to formulate in his head. "I've been terrible about keeping up my routine lately," he laughs sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

"But we can call Rei, and Nagisa, and make a day out of it!" he continues excitedly, already starting to make loose plans in his head about shopping for new swimsuits again, or maybe even going to that new ramen place together.

"It's supposed to be really lovely weather this week, and maybe we can even go to the beach—"

"You're lying to me," Haru says, and he sounds nothing like his usual self; his voice is surprised and small, while his blue eyes are wide and…

And hurt.

"W-wh—Haru-chan, I—" Makoto blinks rapidly, mouth opening and closing helplessly for a moment before he reaches out to cover Haru's slender hand with his larger one, cocking his head and lowering his voice. "I'm not lying to you," he says gently, rubbing small circles on the back of Haru's hand soothingly.

"But that's not what's _wrong_, " Haru insists, narrowing his eyes unhappily, turning his palm up so that he can twine his fingers tightly around Makoto's—making the brunet inhale sharply.

"We promised, Makoto," Haru accuses, making Makoto's stomach plummet guiltily, "We promised never to keep anything from each other. To always be there for one another," he adds in a hurried mumble, eyes falling away from Makoto's in embarrassment at his outburst, suddenly enraptured by the grain of the table.

Makoto can only stare at his best friend in as a suddenly heavy silence falls over them; and then all his breath leaves him in a rush as he sighs, raising his free hand to cover his face, a soft, helpless laugh escaping despite himself.

It's enough of an un-Makoto-like action for Haru to snap his gaze up from his study of the table to gaze at his boyfriend in shock.

"That was pretty childish of me, wasn't it, Haru?" he sighs good-naturedly, smiling apologetically at his childhood friend with enough fondness that a not-quite gasp escapes Haru's lips. "I should know better than to beat around the bush with you."

That gets a rare, knee-jerk reaction out of Haru, because he frowns and nods with a huff in affirmation—startling another short, sad laugh from Makoto.

"I..it's selfish of me, I know, but… I just didn't want you to think badly of me," Makoto says quietly, and he squeezes back when Haru tightens his grip encouragingly on Makoto's fingers for the briefest moment.

Makoto drops his gaze from Haru's intent one when Haru says nothing in reply, quietly waiting for Makoto to remedy the situation and speak his mind.

"I...sometimes, it's just…I feel as though you, y'know," Makoto starts and stops and tries again helplessly, looking up at Haru before looking away just as quickly when a fierce blush steals across his face.

"It'sjustyouandRin-" Makoto gasps out before he's unable to speak anymore, and he clenches his eyes miserably shut as his face burns even darker.

"…Rin?" Haru blinks blankly, tilting his head the slightest bit, and even in the midst of his shamefaced embarrassment, Makoto can't help but inwardly coo over how closely his boyfriend resembles a confused puppy.

"…Yeah," Makoto mumbles, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow him whole.

But Haru just. Keeps staring.

And staring.

…As if he doesn't understand.

"I don't understand," Haru admits after a beat.

Makoto is now torn between wanting the floor to swallow him up, or to slam his head into the table. Repeatedly.

"What's not to get?" Makoto asks, utterly bewildered, "You're an amazing swimmer, _he's_ an amazing swimmer—all our swim teams can ever talk about is the incredible chemistry you two have when you're together, about how palpable it is and how you two deserve each other, and I'll _never_ be half as good as Rin, I'm not _anything_ like him, and—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Haru interrupts his suddenly helpless ramble, blinking furiously at Makoto, who's snapped his mouth obediently shut.

"You're saying. You think. Rin. Me and him?" He stares at Makoto with a funny look. Makoto bites his lip but nods timidly, shrinking in on himself as best he can for how tall he is.

Haru just keeps staring.

"You're nothing _like_ Rin," Haru says slowly, enunciating each syllable slowly, as if explaining this to a child, and it's all Makoto can do not to burst into tears.

"_I know that, Haru_, " Makoto winces miserably as his voice cracks and breaks into something nearly like a wail, but it's like his mouth is running off on its own- "I _know_ that, and that's what I'm _saying-_I'll _never_ be anything like him, and that's—"

Makoto blinks back angry, stinging tears as a finger presses to his lips, and he blinks tearfully at Haru's solemn, earnest face.

"Rin's Rin," Haru explains wisely, as if letting Makoto in on a Very Important secret, tenderly running his thumb along Makoto's cheek—and just when Makoto swears that that's going to be the end of that-

"But he's not Makoto," Haru says at long last, before scooting over to Makoto's side of the table, shuffling over on his hands and knees to until he's close enough to kiss Makoto.

It's the most tender kiss Makoto's sure they've ever shared, and his heart already feels like it's fit to burst from Haru's blunt, heartfelt words. Tears spill down his cheeks before he has the chance to blink them back—but Haru's thumbs gently are already there to wipe them away. Makoto can't help but smile tremulously against Haru's lips, raising his hands to cover Haru's where they're cupping his face, tilting his head and sighing heavily into Haru's mouth, silently pleading for more.

Haru hears Makoto's wordless request loud and clear and in an instant Makoto feels himself before lowered down into the plush pillows scattered around the table. His arms curve around Haru's neck as the slender boy presses flush against him, licking his way into his mouth and swallowing the soft, unbidden whimpers of pleasure.

"Come to bed." It's more of a demand that a question that Haru breathes against Makoto's lips when they finally part for air with a wet sound, yet Makoto finds that all he can do is nod, his throat still too tight with emotion to form words.

It is the longest trip up the flight of stairs Makoto has ever had, because Haru is oddly handsy and seems unable to keep from trying to strip Makoto (and himself) down right then and there on the stairwell (and then kissing him breathless at least every two steps for good measure) but Makoto has had plenty of practice urging Haru not to strip on a spur of the moment whim.

Eventually, they _do_ make it up to Haru's room, though by that point both have lost their shirts and Makoto is only in his boxers after a particularly determined effort on Haru's part on the last few steps.

One minute Makoto is stepping through the doorway, and then next he finds himself blinking up bewilderedly at a proud—and inexplicably naked—Haru. The half smile, half smirk on his best friend's face whenever they're in this position never fails to make Makoto's face flush, and arousal tingles from his fingers to his toes before pooling decidedly in his belly. He looks away, embarrassed, but Haru's thumb and forefinger gently urge his head back, and their eyes lock in a heated gaze.

"How could I want anything else, when I have everything I want right here, in Makoto?" Haru asks so quietly Makoto thinks he may have imagined it. But the telltale blush of saying something so sentimental lighting up Haru's face tells Makoto that he heard correctly, and it's all he can do not to burst into tears of happiness.

"Haru," Makoto chokes out, before his boyfriend's mouth descends upon his own once more, and then they're kissing passionately once again. Haru lines their bodies up so he can press his growing erection against Makoto's, and they both groan loudly in pleasure at the friction. Makoto's hands scramble helplessly for something to grasp at until Haru covers both of Makoto's hands with his smaller ones, twining their fingers together and gripping tightly for leverage as he slowly begins to rock against his boyfriend, grinding their hips together in an excruciatingly slow rhythm.

"Makoto is the only one I want," Haru speaks up again suddenly, breaking their heady kisses to tell him so, uncurling his fingers from Makoto's as he slowly slides his hands down Makoto's prone form, ghosting appreciatively from his broad shoulders to his firm abs and down to his muscular thighs.

His fingers curl around the hem of Makoto's boxers, and he slowly eases them off, taking his time lavishing attention on every small expanse of skin that is revealed until Makoto nearly wants to weep with frustration when Haru's attentive mouth covers everywhere but the place he wants it most.

"Please, Haru," Makoto begs, whining pitifully when Haru answers with a reprimanding nip to the juncture of his thigh before sealing his lips firmly over the sensitive skin there and suckling a dark, hidden mark into Makoto's olive skin. He can feel Haru smirk against his skin when a whimper escapes his throat as his hips snap up.

"Ah, _ah_ —Haru_ka_ ," Makoto moans loudly when his boyfriend nuzzles his cock, and it's loud enough to warrant slapping a hand over his mouth. Mortified, he bites at his palm to stifle any further embarrassing sounds – only to find himself blinking up owlishly into Haru's pouting face as his hand is tugged away.

"No hiding," Haru declares, eyes softening slightly at the hazy confusion on his boyfriend's face. "Not anymore. Not tonight. Not ever again." Haru presses an almost absentminded kiss to the angry looking teeth marks left on his palm before setting his arm back down.

Makoto's torn between deciding whether his face burns more from smiling, or blushing, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of Haru's wrist where he's pinned Makoto's arm by his head. He melts a little at the glimpse he catches of an answering smile on Haru's lips before he ducks his head to return to his place settled between Makoto's legs once more.

Makoto's arms raise to hide his face almost instinctively, but a soft, pointed cough from below makes Makoto raise his head to offer a shy, sheepish smile back down into Haru's expectant face. Haru arches an eyebrow and doesn't move—waiting patiently until Makoto sighs noisily yet good-humoredly makes a show out of lifting his arms in surrender, before letting his arms flop to his sides, fingers fidgeting restlessly.

Satisfied, Haru lowers his mouth to leave soft, lingering kisses up the inside of Makoto's thighs, eliciting increasingly loud gasps from the pliant body beneath his as he grows closer to his mark until he blows a soft, hot breath over the tip of Makoto's weeping erection. He watches interestedly when it twitches in response, then swirls his tongue lightly over the tip to gather the precome there.

Haru hums softly, appreciatively, as he licks his lips for any last trace of Makoto's taste, and it's all the brunet can do not to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head away – because Haru has made it Very Clear that he isn't allowed to run and hide.

Besides, he never _could_ refuse Haru whatever he wanted—even if he tried.

Instead, Makoto does his best to keep his hazy eyes fixed on Haru, swallowing thickly and trying terribly hard not to come right then and there just from the sight of Haru between his legs.

Haru, in Makoto's opinion, manages to be erotic without ever trying – all long, slender limbs that move with fluid grace, and sinewy muscles that flex beautifully beneath pale, milky skin. Haru never fails to take Makoto's breath away—he always has, and Makoto desperately hopes he always will. But Haru is so confident and comfortable with his body, with being naked, that sometimes Makoto can't help but feel a little envious of him.

Then again, Haru wouldn't be _Haru_ without that brazen confidence, and Makoto wouldn't have him any other way.

Haru never shies away, not even when Makoto finds himself helplessly staring straight back into Haru's deep, dark blue eyes as he lowers his head to take Makoto into his mouth, his lips closing around his cock in a perfect 'o' and his lashes lowering to half mast as he sucks once, softly, before slowly bobbing his head.

Makoto's fingers curl tightly into the bed sheets and his feet press flat against the mattress as he arches up into the heat of Haru's mouth. A loud keen escapes his throat as Haru starts licking and sucking in earnest, completely unperturbed by the wet, filthy sounds he makes that only fuel Makoto's arousal.

Makoto tries and fails over and over to form Haru's name, mouth working helplessly while gasps and moans escape his throat as he watches Haru's mouth work around his cock; and his desire spikes higher, harder, faster than he could have imagined.

"_Haru-__**ka**_," Makoto whimpers, hips twitching as he struggles not to thrust up hard and choke his boyfriend, eyes fluttering madly as he strains to keep watching despite the sparks flickering across his vision, "Haru, _Haru, __**ngh**__,_ s-stop, I'm g-gonna," he breaks off as his voice cracks, his breath leaving him in harsh little pants, mouth hanging helplessly open.

Haru's only answer is to slip one of his fingers into his mouth alongside Makoto's cock, rubbing along the side of Makoto's length as he laves at the other with his tongue—and the sight of Haru's mouth stretched so wide is too much and Makoto's green eyes slam shut as he arches up, his orgasm hitting him hard.

He shudders his whole way through his climax as Haru continues to work him with his mouth even as he greedily swallows his load, another low, appreciative sound escaping his boyfriend.

After a short eternity, Makoto feels his limbs stop seizing up and he all but melts back into the bed sheets, panting weakly for breath and smiling helplessly as he feels his best friend wriggle his way up his prone form to look at him; sure enough, he weakly opens his eyes to blue ones examining him closely.

"That okay?" Haru asks in a way that sounds oddly perfunctory, but Makoto fondly knows is Haru's special way of nervously asking _was it good? Did you like it? Are you okay_?

"Yeah," Makoto whispers, answering all of it, raising a hand to cup Haru's cheek, smiling at the way his best friend instinctively leans into the touch, eyes closing calmly even as Makoto feels Haru's own erection brush against his thigh. "That was amazing, Haru, I-but-you don't—didn't—have to do that, I know it doesn'ttasteverygood," he hastily rambles, blushing madly.

Haru only shakes his head though, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I wanted to," he replies decisively. "I want you to know that I _want_ to. Do that. Just for you. Only for Makoto," he adds as an afterthought, but his eyes are searching Makoto's restlessly, as if it is imperative that he knows that Makoto understands.

Makoto smiles, and ducks his head to try and hide it despite himself, because if it feels this goofy, it must look even stupider—but Haru stubbornly lifts his chin until they're eye to eye once more.

"I don't want anyone but you, Makoto," Haru reiterates softly, but he looks troubled as he says it. Makoto kisses Haru's nose, unable to bite back a smile at the way Haru scrunches his nose in response.

"I believe you, Haru," Makoto reassures him gently, blinking when Haru's slight frown deepens as he slowly shakes his head.

"But you were worried," he says, and he sits back on his feet, mulling over his words even as he says them, scrutinizing Makoto closely. Makoto thinks he can practically hear the gears in Haru's head turning.

"Only because you're so amazing, Haru-chan," Makoto laughs airily, sitting up as well and reaching forward to swipe at the corner of Haru's lip where he missed a spot of cum and he wipes it away, shaking his head slightly as he's suddenly struck breathless—for the umpteenth time—by just how beautiful Haru is.

"I can't help but notice how many people stare at you, and I can't help but wonder…" Makoto trails off, his throat tightening at the mere thought of anyone else seeing Haru like this.

"Wonder what?" Haru demands in that oddly gentle voice he saves only for Makoto, and on occasion the twins.

"…I can't help but wonder if they ask themselves what you're doing with just me," Makoto admits, barely above a whisper.

Haru opens his mouth, and Makoto braces himself for whatever onslaught or diatribe he's brought upon himself.

But nothing comes out. Haru sits there for a good ten seconds blinking speechlessly at Makoto, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Or worse, just suggested they give up swimming.

"You're not _'just_ _Makoto_, '" Haru says at long last, in an incredulous enough voice that Makoto's head snaps up from where it's hung.

"Haru?" Makoto asks tentatively.

Haru shakes his head – not unlike that adorable way that he does when there's water clogging his ears, and he won't rest until it's gone – before he grips Makoto's shoulders and pulls him close, pressing his forehead to his in an intimate embrace that makes color spring to Makoto's cheeks.

"_Haru-"_ Makoto gasps, bewildered, but Haru breaks in before he can say anything else.

"You're _Makoto_, " Haru says, enunciating each syllable as if he were savoring the taste as it rolls off his tongue. "You're everything. You're my best friend. My teammate. My boyfriend, my," he pauses, seemingly at a loss for the word he wants before his eyes light up triumphantly as he proudly declares, "my koibito."

Makoto's breath hitches loudly as his hands fly up to cover his mouth, his eyes welling with tears that Haru leans in to kiss away before they can leave any more salty tracks down his cheeks.

"You're not _'just'_ anything. You're just _everything_, " Haru murmurs reverently against Makoto's flushed cheek before his lips find Makoto's, and he swallows the broken half laugh, half sob that flows out of Makoto's mouth into his.

Haru leans into Makoto until they fall back into the bed sheets, kissing feverishly and sighing against each other's lips until Makoto finally breaks away with a sweet, wet sound, his dark eyes finding Haru's.

"Please," he begs, barely above a whisper—and he doesn't have to say another word, Haru stretching over him to reach for his bedside drawer, grabbing a foil packet and a small, innocuous bottle – pooling a liberal amount of the contents in his palm to warm the cool liquid, before spreading the slick over his fingers, taking great pains to coat his fingers evenly.

Haru leans in to press soft, lingering kisses all over Makoto's belly as he presses the first finger into him, shivering softly as Makoto opens up for him the way he always does, and he eases his finger shallowly in and out, waiting patiently for Makoto's breaths to ease once more. Only then does he crook his finger as he pushes deeper, expertly finding the spot that makes Makoto see stars and brushing the pad of his finger over it again and again, delighting in the halting gasps of_ "Haru!"_ that escape the taller brunet with each thrust of his finger, and he's able to add a second and a third in no time.

It's mere minutes before Makoto is thrusting back onto his fingers, and Haru can't help but ignore his aching cock to take a few minutes more than necessary to keep stretching Makoto if only to watch him, still awestruck by the way his gorgeous boyfriend slowly comes undone-running his fingers over and over Makoto's prostate until Makoto's torn between quivering with tension and going helplessly limp with pleasure.

"Haru," Makoto laughs shakily, breathlessly, blinking sweat out of his eyes to gaze imploringly up at his lover, having finally found his voice, "if you don't d-do it right now, I'm g-gonna come before we even get started," he admits weakly, chest heaving and fingers worrying restlessly at the sheets.

"Okay," Haru mumbles, withdrawing his fingers reluctantly from Makoto's stretched hole, wiping the remainder of the lube over his cock with one hand as he blindly gropes for the condom he retrieved before with the other, tearing the foil open with his teeth when his fingers close around it before rolling it on.

Haru smears the last of the lube over Makoto's entrance for good measure before he grasps Makoto's hips, pulling the brunet closer as he positions himself between his best friend's legs.

"Love you, Haru," Makoto blurts out as he feels Haru's cock nudge against him, and Haru smiles down at him, leaning in to press a soft, surprisingly chaste kiss to his lips as he pushes into him – the two of them gasping in tandem.

"Makoto," Haru half sighs, half moans, and his name is full of enough emotion to make Makoto's eyes flutter open despite the burn of the initial intrusion that they helplessly closed against. He gazes up at Haru, his breath catching at the expression on his boyfriend's face.

Makoto wouldn't miss this face for the world—not when the face that Haru makes when he enters him is Makoto's absolute favorite. To Makoto, it somehow manages to be even more beautiful than the glimpse of joy he sometimes catches shining in Haru's eyes when he watches him gaze at the ocean.

Because Haru's expression is caught somewhere between bliss and being aroused to the point of pain, and there's only a sliver of blue peering out beneath his dark lashes, but it's trained intently on Makoto.

As if Makoto is more important than anything in the world.

As if…he's drowning in him. And there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Not even the water.

"Makoto," Haru breathes again, but this time there's a little more question behind his name. Makoto smiles tremulously and nods his assent, _'yes, more, please'_ and twists his fingers more deeply into the covers as Haru draws his hips back before snapping them forward once more.

Dazed green eyes flutter as Makoto's gaze travels over Haru's form, enraptured by his boyfriend's body in motion, from the way he's gracefully bowed over him, his flawless back curved in an achingly gorgeous arch, to the way he effortlessly cants his hips forward at the perfect angle to graze his prostate with every thrust.

Haru's so pretty to look at like this. With his dark hair almost blue in the moonlight flooding in from the window overhead, and his blue eyes dark and bright at the same time, more than a little ethereal.

"You're so beautiful," the very words on Makoto's tongue slip off of Haru's in a shuddering sigh, low and dark and barely audible, making Makoto's cheeks flush darker if possible.

Smiling, he lifts a hand to curl his fingers into the longer hairs at Haru's nape, easing him down into a slow, languid kiss that pulls twin moans from both of them and makes their blood burn hotter.

"Haru," Makoto whimpers, his fingers tightening in Haru's damp hair when the other boy shifts his weight for better leverage and starts rolling his hips faster into Makoto's—sighing as he leans in and presses his forehead to Makoto's shoulder, mouthing kisses against his sweat-slick skin.

"You have it all wrong," Haru murmurs between butterfly kisses across Makoto's broad chest, "I'm the lucky one, not you. You could have anyone—" and here, Makoto wants to protest, that _Haru's_ the one that has is all backwards, but his heart is stuck in his throat, blocking the words "—but you chose me. I'm so lucky, to have Makoto."

Makoto's breath hitches, and he whispers a tearful _"Haru"_ – making the other teen hide his face in the hollow of his throat, and Makoto feels the tiny, answering smile against his skin.

A smile that Makoto similarly feels morph into a smirk when Haru slams home with the next thrust, hitting his prostate head on and making Makoto see stars.

"_Haruka_, " Makoto cries out, his hands scrabbling for purchase on his boyfriend, nails dragging harmlessly down the long, smooth expanse of his back with each rock of Haru's hips.

"Do you think I can make you come just like this?" Haru wonders lowly, thoughtfully, one of his hands snaking its way between their bodies to fondle the curve of Makoto's ass.

Makoto's breath catches sharply at the suggestion. Haru's mouth quirks slyly, and Makoto squeezes his eyes tightly shut against the way Haru's eyes darken in interest, biting back a shuddering moan.

A thumb slips between Makoto's lips, and his lips part obligingly as his eyes rise to meet Haru's, flushing when he finds Haru still staring intently, waiting for an answer.

"…Y-yeah," Makoto barely breathes out, his eyes fluttering as Haru presses his hips flush into Makoto's and simply starts grinding into him—hands sliding down to hold Makoto's hips as he starts bucking beneath his boyfriend, his lips parted in a silent scream as his orgasm starts rocketing toward him beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

"Show me," Haru demands in a husky whisper, tracing the shell of Makoto's ear with his tongue, his breath hot and moist against Makoto's neck—and he revels in the full-bodied shiver that runs through Makoto's entire body.

"Show me, show me the face you'll only make for me."

Haru's fingers tighten around Makoto's possessively – and the nature of his words; the way his lover's body suddenly seems to enfold him, like he's shielding him from the rest of the world, like his world only revolves around _Makoto_ ; it's suddenly enough and just too much at the same time, and-

"I-I'm-" Makoto's voice breaks as he stutters, and his toes curl and his breath starts coming to him in short, rapid gasps, "Haru, I'm—"

"Mine," Haru groans suddenly, fingers digging hard enough into Makoto's hips that there'll certainly be bruises to show for it in the morning, and he'll have to dress carefully to hide it, because otherwise _oh_, what would Nagisa and Rei say-?

Makoto's mind goes pleasantly blank, however, when Haru suddenly bites down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder and starts sucking hard, noisily, intent on leaving a bright mark for all to see; and that really shouldn't be so hot, but it is, that Haru's proudly claiming him.

And then Makoto distantly realizes Haru is growling his ownership against his skin in a mantra of _Makoto. My Makoto. Mine._

"Yours," Makoto almost sobs, overcome, and then he's coming hard, his spine arching up and off the bed as cum spatters Haru's chest and his stomach, his wordless cry of pleasure cracking and breaking into a wail as Haru continues pounding into him.

Haru watches Makoto fall apart beneath him with a face that Makoto thinks is way too erotic and makes him want to come all over again; his mouth hangs half open as his thrusts grow erratic and shallow, and his eyes are blown to the point that only the slimmest sliver of blue remains. His hair curls at the ends where they're drenched in sweat, and clings to his neck and forehead prettily—stark against the marble white of his skin.

Makoto is pulled back to his senses when Haru suddenly ducks his head to hide his face against Makoto's neck, stifling a loud cry against his skin when Makoto tightens around him, and he comes only a few heartbeats after, shaking through his entire orgasm and clinging to Makoto as if he's afraid he'll disappear.

They rock together desperately, drawing out their respective climaxes as long as they can before finally slumping into an exhausted pile—neither making the slightest move to separate. Haru doesn't even bother to pull out, not that Makoto minds in the least, lazily tangling their legs together in a silent plea for Haru to stay put, which he does.

They lay there reveling in the afterglow in silence for a good, long while, taking their sweet time catching their breath and exchanging slow, languid kisses.

"Makoto?"

"Hmm?" Makoto blinks his sleepy green eyes open in surprise—suddenly awake though he was nearly nodding off only seconds ago. It's rare that Haruka be the one to ever break the silence first—rarer even still that he remain curled up this closely for so long, usually eager to wordlessly take their cuddles from the bed to the bath for a long, pleasant soak before bed.

Yet here they are, with Haru still sprawled on top of Makoto where he collapsed, apparently unbothered by the cum drying between them, smeared across their stomachs.

Makoto finds himself blinking rapidly as he's rather abruptly drawn back to the present from his contemplation, going slightly cross-eyed as Haru shoves his pinky finger into his face.

"…Don't ever show anyone else that face," Haru finally says, refusing to meet Makoto's eyes as he stares pointedly off, yet still holding out his pinky finger, waiting impatiently for his boyfriend to take it.

Makoto gapes a little, before his face splits into a wide grin even as his eyes go a little misty, obligingly raising his own hand to curl his pinky around Haru's in answer.

"Never. Promise."

•∞•∞•∞•

**A/N: **So yeah, this was the ultimate result of nonstop feels over the course of three days, and needing to get back into the swing of writing Not Essays. It was fun. I regret nothing.

_Please Read and Review~_


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